


The Ghosts of Space Christmas

by frapandfurious



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Christmas Fluff, Command Triumvirate Shenanigans, Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Evil Space Boyfriends, Fluff and Crack, Gen, Humor, IN SPACE!, Inspired by A Christmas Carol, Kylux but it's not central to the story, M/M, Or "Charles Dickens is rolling over in his grave right now", Parody, Phasma Is So Done, is probably the better tag here, shrug emoji, well okay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-07
Updated: 2016-12-07
Packaged: 2018-09-07 00:41:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8776309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frapandfurious/pseuds/frapandfurious
Summary: It's the night before the Finalizer's first Space Christmas and everything is going according to plan.
Well, almost everything.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fandomfix](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fandomfix/gifts).



> This started as a cracky idea inspired by a conversation with [fandomfix](http://archiveofourown.org/users/fandomfix/pseuds/fandomfix). And then it sort of...grew from there, into the "what did I just read?" you see in front of you.
> 
> Enjoy!

JM-2425 was reassigned to another ship, to begin with. This one thing you must remember, or nothing that follows will seem extraordinary.

 

Preparations for the Finalizer's first Space Christmas were underway. An anxious but eager Lieutenant Mitaka was overseeing things, with the Command Triumvirate watching like hawks. Everything had to be perfect, or the General would never do this again.

 

"Why _are_ we doing this?" Kylo finally bothered to ask the day before the festivities.

 

"What do you mean?"

 

"I mean Christmas is a holiday celebrated by some people on a planet that isn't even in our galaxy. And we've never had a holiday before, most of the 'troopers aren't even sure what a holiday _is_."

 

"I didn't hear you offering any brilliant suggestions in the meeting to brainstorm projects for boosting morale."

 

"....."

 

"You were asleep during that meeting, weren't you."

 

"N- okay, yes."

 

"Again?!"

 

"It’s your fault I was up so late. Or do you forget what we were doing, because I can remind you..."

 

"Oh for fuck's s-"

 

At that moment, Phasma returned, datapad in hand.

 

"Oh thank the stars. Well? What did you find out?" He took the datapad from her and scrolled through her notes.

 

"It seems that overall, anticipation for Space Christmas is high. Throwing in that stocking business was a nice touch, a scan of the ship confirms that every officer and 'troopers has one regulation sock hung up somewhere in their quarters. Everyone is really joyful, sir, except..."

 

"Except?"

 

"Well, except for one. ES-1843 showed distressingly low levels of Space Christmas spirit."

 

"One can be disposed of quickly," Kylo chimed in, reaching for his saber. Hux's hand stilled his.

 

"No.”

 

Kylo glared at him.

 

“I find his lack of cheer disturbing.”  
  
“While I appreciate the sentiment Ren, killing a trooper will only serve to lower the spirits of the rest of those in that squadron."

 

"Reconditioning?" Phasma suggested.

 

"Hmmm...maybe. But the others will surely notice if he goes missing then returns different, and that could have similar results. No, it's best to do this naturally."

 

"And what does that entail?" Phasma asked.

 

"Ren using the Force, of course."

 

"Oh of course," Kylo deadpanned.

 

"What?" Hux snapped. "Can't you do it?"

 

"It's not that I _can't_ , but...if you actually want it to be natural, wouldn't it be better if he came to the conclusion himself?"

 

"You sound like you have an idea."

 

"I do. It would be, uh. Complicated. But since preparations are ahead of schedule - Lieutenant Mitaka is really into this whole Space Christmas thing - we do have the time to spare."

 

Hux stared at Kylo, glanced at Phasma, who only shrugged, then turned back to him again and sighed.

 

"Alright. What's this plan of yours."

 

"Well..."

 

*

 

When the gamma shift ended and the squadrons had switched duty, Hux, Phasma and Kylo found themselves in Kylo's quarters - he could focus best there, supposedly - dressed casually and sitting cross-legged in a circle on the floor.

 

"Isn't there a more dignified way to do this?" Hux grumbled.

 

"Would you rather stand?"

 

That shut him up for the time being.

 

"What did you do while we were on duty, anyway?" Phasma asked Kylo.

 

"I, uh. Warned him."

 

"You WHAT?" Hux didn't stay shut up for long.

 

"I just thought it would be easier if he isn't so scared when we put the plan in motion!"

 

"And how, exactly, did you warn him?"

 

"Here, I'll show you. It'll be good practice for later."

 

Kylo held his hands out palm-up. Phasma and Hux looked at them warily for a moment before each taking one.

 

"And each other," Kylo prompted.

 

"Are you sure this isn't just an excuse to hold hands?" Phasma teased.

 

"Do you want this to work or not?"

 

Hux noted that that wasn't a “no”.

 

He and Phasma begrudgingly obeyed, taking each other's free hand.

 

They closed their eyes.

 

At first, it was dark, and they stood together in the darkness. Then Kylo began to form the image. First one of the Finalizer's long corridors faded into view, then the doors along it, then the focus drew to one particular door.

 

Footsteps pulled their attention to the end of the hall where a group of troopers was making their way back from their shift, helmets tucked under their arms. A few at a time, they split off into their rooms.

 

"There he is," Kylo informed them just as a trooper arrived in front of the door they were near.

 

He pulled out his key card to scan. As he moved toward the door he paused abruptly.

 

The card reader was wavering slightly, the glow of the scanner shining a blue instead of the usual red that turned green when the correct card was identified. ES-1843 slowly, warily drew his hand away.

 

He jumped back when a beam of blue light extended out of the reader like a holoprojector, and the image of a face took form.

 

"How?" The trooper whispered, somewhere between scared and awestruck.

 

He rubbed his eyes, and when he looked again the face was gone. He stared at the reader, now glowing red once more, before shaking his head and scanning his card.

 

As he entered the room, Hux, Phasma and Kylo followed him in the vision, appearing inside. ES-1843 could neither see nor hear them.

 

He began removing and storing his armor. His three roommates weren't in from their shifts yet, so he was alone in the room. With a sigh, he plopped onto his lower bunk.

 

Suddenly the lights in the room dimmed, all except for the emergency infrared ones along the edge of the ceiling. ES-1843 sat up abruptly, listening for an announcement. There was none.

 

Then the sound of clunking footsteps filled the room, alarmingly close as if someone was inside, though it was only him. He looked around in confusion, then scooted back in the bed with a yelp as a shimmering blue light formed in front of him.

 

"Hey, Ears!" A voice came from the light as its shape grew more defined.

 

"What the hells did they put in the rations," ES-1843 breathed as he gaped at the apparition.

 

Finally the shape became clear: a young trooper in armor minus the helmet.

 

"Hey," he repeated with a smile.

 

"Jake...what...how are you here? That's impossible. Do you...have the Force?"

 

The other trooper laughed.

 

"No way, are you kidding?"

 

"Then are you a ghost? Oh no, that would mean...are you dead?!"

 

"No, no! Just calm down. I'm not really here, this is...nevermind, just listen, I'm here to warn you."

 

"Warn me? Is there going to be an attack?"

 

"No. Worse. There's going to be a holiday."

 

"Oh, yeah, that. What about it?"

 

"You have to get into it." 

 

ES-1843 made a face.

 

"But why?"

 

"Because if you don't, you might be sent to reconditioning. Or worse, you might end up like me."

 

"Transferred?"

 

"And demoted."

 

"To what?"

 

"Sanitation."

 

"Shit."

 

"You're telling me."

 

"So what do I do? I can't just care about this...gaudy, fake morale-booster they're putting together."

 

"Not even for the free food? I hear it's _actual_ food."

 

"Tempting, but..." ES shrugged. "Nothing has been the same since..." he trailed off, a melancholy look on his face.

 

"Listen. I don’t have a lot of time. Tonight you'll be visited by three, uh. Let's call them ghosts. But not the scary kind! Okay that's a lie. But they're not going to hurt you, probably."

 

"That's reassuring."

 

"Just trust me."

 

"...yeah. Okay, fine." ES-1843 paused. "How are you?"

 

"Sorry, I can't really stick around and talk. I'm just here to tell you that. About the ghosts."

 

"Oh, okay."

 

"Oh! And, expect the first one at 0100."

 

"But I'll be asleep," ES-1843 protested.

 

"Don't worry, they won't wake you. You'll see."

 

"Great. Um, thanks."

 

"No problem. Happy Space Christmas!"

 

"You too?"

 

The ghostly trooper waved as he began to fade. As if it was an afterthought, ES-1843 leaned forward to try to touch him, but he was gone, the room empty. The lights returned to their usual setting.

 

ES-1843 stared at the spot where the apparition once stood for several seconds before slipping under the covers and curling up to try to sleep.

 

The vision faded and Phasma, Hux and Kylo were sitting in Kylo's room once more.

 

"Some warning," Hux said, pulling his hands free. "That just frightened him. We need him to be asleep for this to work, right?"

 

"Yes, and he is," Kylo replied defensively. He closed his eyes a moment, searching for the trooper's consciousness, then nodded and opened them again. "He is."

 

"Now what?" Phasma freed her hands and sat back.

 

"Now we wait until 0100."

 

*

 

Four rounds of seven card comet later, the alarm on Hux's datapad went off, indicating that five minutes remained.

 

They moved the game aside and scooted closer, joining hands again.

 

"One last thing," Kylo began, "all three of us can watch, but only one will be able to interact with him at a time. Otherwise I use too much energy for us all to speak with him and the details of the vision won't be as believable."

 

"That would have been nice to know before," Hux muttered. "Alright. I'll go first."

 

"Why you?" Phasma demanded.

 

"Because he's most likely to listen to his General, of course."

 

"Not the terrifying six-foot-three Force-user..."

 

"Thank you, Captain," Kylo sounded genuinely touched.

 

"...or, maybe, the Captain he answers to directly?" 

 

Hux glared at them both. 

 

"It's almost time. Let me try and if it doesn't work you can give it a whirl."

 

"Fine."

 

They closed their eyes and slipped back into the darkness.

 

 

*

 

0100

 

ES-1843 opened his eyes. Except, he realized with a strange, foreboding feeling, he didn't open his real eyes so much as his mind's eye, as if becoming aware he was in a dream but unable to escape it. He was in his room. He looked around and everything was much the same, his roommates sound asleep in their bunks.

 

"ES-1843"

 

A familiar voice startled him and he sat upright.

 

"What the fuck?" 

 

"Is that any way to address your commander?"

 

The mildly imposing figure of General Hux came into view. He quickly rose to his feet and saluted.

 

"Sorry. What the fuck, _sir_?"

 

"Better."

 

"Sir, what are you wearing?"

 

"What?" Hux looked down to find be was wearing flowing white robes. His form was somewhat transparent, ghost-like, and glowing pale gold. He rolled his eyes and shot a glare behind him, though ES-1843 couldn't figure out at who or what. He turned back to the trooper.

 

"That's not important. What's important is that I'm here to help you find your Space Christmas spirit."

 

"My what?"

 

"No more questions. Follow me. That's an order!" 

 

Looking back at the bed, he could see his body still lying in its slumber. This was some sort of strange dream, he decided. Might as well roll with it.

 

"Yes sir."

 

Hux nodded resolutely and took his hand.

 

_Took his hand?!_

 

This was the weirdest dream he'd ever had.

 

The room around them blurred and then faded away completely, and then they were in another room. This time it was a large open room, a sort of gymnasium. It took him a moment, but then ES-1843 recognized it.

 

It was where he'd been trained for the Stormtrooper program.

 

A line of children ranging from ages 8 to 12 stood in a line as an officer paced. One young boy at the end was standing an extra step further from the rest.

 

"Not much of a people person, were you," the General remarked, "though, neither was I."

 

ES-1843 gave him a strange look but stayed silent. Even in a dream he wasn't too keen on angering his superiors.

 

They watched as the officer split the group into pairs and had them spar, then paired up the winners from each match, and so on.

 

Young ES-1843 easily took down each one he faced, until only he and one other young boy remained.

 

Standing beside the General, the trooper squinted at the other boy, then realized something and felt the blood drain from his face.

 

"That's TJ-9881!" 

 

"You remember that one, do you? I would too after this."

 

They watched as the other boy took down ES-1843 without breaking a sweat. ES-1843 lay on the ground and watched as the rest of the group circled the winner, patting him on the back and shoulders, before they were dismissed, walking away without bothering to wait for him.

 

The General looked as if he was listening to something ES-1843 couldn't hear, and then he nodded as if in understanding.

 

"That was the first of many, many times he kicked your ass."

 

They remained in the room, but time picked up speed, showing them year after year of sparring and other training drills as the class grew up. Every time, ES-1843 was second only to TJ-9881.

 

Watching, he began to grow frustrated.

 

"What does any of this have to do with Space Christmas?"

 

"I'm trying to get to the root of your lack of cheer."

 

"Right. So you're showing me my history of being second place?"

 

"Yes and no. Entertaining as this is, there’s a point."

 

The scenes before them continued. As the group reached adolescence and then early adulthood, something changed. ES-1843 continued to lose, but at the end of training he would awkwardly try to congratulate TJ-9881.

 

The General got a funny sort of look on his face. It was something close to a grin, if Hux was capable of such a thing.

 

"I think I see where this is going."

 

Sure enough, they reached the day of a sort of graduation, but with less pomp and circumstance, as each new trooper was given their armor and blaster and assigned to a squadron. When it was over they were also given a small sum of credits and an extra hour of leave on the planet the ship was stopping at that day.

 

The group made their way out of the room. ES-1843 hurried after them and tapped TJ-9881 on the arm.

 

"Can't wait to see how you fuck this up," Hux said, sounding genuinely invested.

 

"We were assigned to the same squad!" ES-1843 exclaimed to the other. "That's great, right?"

 

"Uh, yeah. Sure."

 

"What are you going to do with your extra hour?"

 

TJ-9881 only shrugged.

 

"Want to grab something to eat? I mean, with me? I hear they have-"

 

"Listen." Both young men stopped in their tracks as the rest continued on. "You're...a good fighter. You'll make a good trooper. But I'm not interested in you...the way you seem to be interested in me. And if we're going to be in the same squad I need you to understand that."

 

Then TJ-9881 turned and walked away, leaving the other behind, heartbroken.

 

The General's face was set in a frown. He evidently hadn't expected that grand of a fuck-up.

 

"What an asshole. I mean, I'm a bit of one myself, but that really-"

 

He was interrupted by a loud sniff. ES-1843 quickly wiped his nose and eyes on the sleeve of his regulation sleep shirt. General Hux gave him a look balanced somewhere between disgusted and sympathetic.

 

"I'll be looking into where that one ended up," he mumbled under his breath, shooting the retreating group of recruits a calculating look.

 

Had he not been so confused, and now sad, ES-1843 might have taken a moment to marvel at the cold General's suddenly protective demeanor. But all he could focus on was the painful memory of that day.

 

Once again, Hux turned and muttered to the air behind him as if speaking to someone, but still no one was there. It was becoming unnerving.

 

"There have to be _some_ good times...a birthday? No you're right they don't have those. Well give me something, Ren, I can't work with this!"

 

ES-1843 looked up at that. Ren? As in...

 

"Okay, moving on," the General said in his most commanding tone. And as he took his hand again, ES-1843 had no choice but to do just that.

 

This time, they were in a mess hall on the ship he'd been assigned to before the Finalizer. It was peak time for dinner, loud and bustling as the troopers ate their rations and talked.

 

All but one, sitting by the wall, at a table that remained unoccupied in spite of how busy it was.

 

"Easy to spot, you are. Don't feel so bad about being completely alone. It's much more productive, trust me."

 

He was about to comment on what apparently passed in Hux's mind as reassurance, when another young man approached the lone occupant at the table.

 

"Can I sit here?"

 

Young ES-1843 looked around to see if he was speaking to someone else, then back at the other man.

 

"With me?"

 

The other trooper laughed.

 

"I don't see anyone else. Unless you're waiting for someone?"

 

"No! No. Go ahead."

 

ES-1843 missed the General turn to his phantom companions and say "that's more like it". He was too busy moving as close as he dared, listening in with a half-smile on his face.

 

"What's your name, anyway?"

 

"ES-1843."

 

"Do you have a nickname? Those serial numbers are a mouthful."

 

"Oh, no, I-"

 

“No? Hmm…well, in my training days we named everyone after their most prominent feature. And those are some ears you’ve got…”

 

Young ES-1843 ducked his head and blushed. Rather than offended, he seemed flattered about having something noticed about him.

 

“…so how about Ears?” The other trooper finished with a friendly smile.

 

"O-okay."

 

"Nice to meet you. I'm-"

 

As the other man introduced himself, the sound faded away and the scene blurred.

 

"Wait!" ES-1843 reached fruitlessly toward the disappearing figures but they were gone.

 

He returned to Hux's side. The General looked pleased.

 

"So you see? That good feeling you had with your fellow trooper, that camaraderie. That's the point of tomorrow. To lift everyone's spirits. Doesn't sound very official that way, I know, but after last year-" He swallowed, a shadow passing over his face, before continuing. "Anyway. I hope that put you in the right state of mind. ...what's that look for?"

 

"Can I just...go back to bed, please, sir?"

 

"Technically you are already in..." Hux turned and shushed whatever invisibly presence he'd been communicating with all day. He turned back to ES-1843. "Fine. Come on." 

 

Hux took his hand and they returned.

 

*

 

"Excellent work, General." Kylo's voice dripped with sarcasm.

 

"I'd like to see you do any better," Hux snapped.

 

"Not him," Phasma interrupted, "me. It's my turn. He's my trooper and I'm going to do this. And not by showing him bad memories."

 

"Fine, what's your bright idea."

 

"I'm going to show him what's worth being excited over _now_. Go on Kylo, do your magic."

 

"It's not-"

 

"You know what I mean."

 

They exchanged glares then all three clasped hands again.

 

*

 

0200

 

ES-1843 blinked up at the underside of the bunk above him.

 

There was a shuffling sound in the room. He sat up and immediately regretted it, because once again he left his body on the bed.

 

Not _again_.

 

The source of the noise revealed herself, chrome armor and all, and once again he found himself standing and saluting in spite of how bizarre this all was.

 

"Captain. What were you...?"

 

"At ease, trooper. I was examining your armor, I've been meaning to ask for some upgrades to the design."

 

"Is that...why...you're here?"

 

"No. I'm here because you are lacking something."

 

His heart dropped into his stomach.

 

"Am I being sent to reconditioning? Back to training?"

 

"No, none of that. What you lack is Space Christmas spirit."

 

His shoulders slumped.

 

"This again?"

 

"You were warned."

 

"Don't remind me."

 

Phasma cleared her throat.

 

"Don't remind me, ma'am?"

 

"There we go. Now- hey, wait a minute."

 

Just as Hux had, she turned as if toward someone, a fierce expression on her face.

 

"Why don't I get a festive outfit? Isn't that part of- I think you just wanted to see him in white. Yes, fix it!"

 

The air around Phasma shimmered and when it stopped, she was dressed in a cozy red velvet robe with black trim and belt and silver detail. Her helmet had disappeared and on her head sat a wreath made of some sort of pointy green leaves.

 

She examined the sleeves, looking pleased. "You passed up a career in fashion design for stabbing people with that broken glow stick? Ow!"

 

One of the leaves had moved, seemingly of its own volition, and poked her forehead.

 

By this point, ES-1843 had passed denial, charged through confusion and landed squarely in numb acceptance. 

 

"Anyway, let's begin."

 

She took his hand as Hux had.

 

"Where are we going?"

 

"We're going to...today."

 

"Wh-"

 

The word was stolen from his mouth as everything around him lurched, like suddenly hitting a rapid velocity while somehow also staying in place. When it ended, he felt like he might vomit.

 

"Dammit, what was _that_?" Phasma hissed over her shoulder. ES-1843 was too busy taking slow, careful breaths to pay much attention.

 

To his surprise, Phasma started rubbing his back, though her face remained stoic with a note of irritation.

 

"Let me know when you're ready."

 

After a moment he nodded. He realized then that they were still in his quarters.

 

Phasma led him out into the hallway.

 

It was more crowded than he'd ever seen it, troopers standing around talking and laughing. Nearly all of them were holding a sock, some pulling gifts out and others talking about what was inside. They’d all gotten the same things – some sweets, a set of toiletries a bit nicer than their standard issue, and a pair of gloves – but it was still exciting.

 

“What’s this?”

 

“It’s Space Christmas morning!”  


“But what does that _mean_?”

 

“…the General did all the research, okay? I’m just here to spread cheer.”

 

They were able to pass, quite literally, through the crowd, intangible and invisible. ES-1843 took in the happy faces of his colleagues and, though he’d never been particularly close with them, felt something warm stir inside.

 

As they continued through the ship, every level and corridor was much the same. Some troopers were still on duty, of course, but as soon as shifts switched they were able to enjoy the festivities.

 

The decorations were minimal, but noticeable, red and green and gold against the black and silver durasteel.

 

“What do you think?” Phasma motioned vaguely to the décor.

 

“It’s…nice? Do we have the budget for this?”

 

“You’d be surprised how much can be reallocated when a certain, um, co-commander, who will go unnamed, stops breaking anything for a few months.”

 

“How did the General manage to get…someone, who I have no idea who you could possibly mean, to agree to that?”

 

“You don’t want to know.”

 

He really didn’t.

 

They made their way to the mess hall, where the tables had been pushed together into lines and at one end more tables were loaded down with foods most of them had never heard of before, let alone tasted. It was somehow even noisier and more joyful here than in the halls, the tables packed, troopers from separate squadrons who had never met all joking and exchanging stories. Subtly, from the overhead speakers that were usually used for announcements, music was playing.

 

ES-1843 glanced to the spot where he would normally sit, off near one corner, and saw even that was occupied.  He looked around again. This was all nice, the food looked good even if in this strange disembodied state he couldn’t smell it, even the music was growing on him.

 

It should have made him happy. How could it not make him happy? And yet…

 

Phasma was going on about something and he wasn’t paying attention. If this were real, he’d be in such deep shit, but all he could do was stare at the scene before him.

 

So he didn’t notice when she abruptly stopped talking and stared at him, waiting for him to snap out of it.

 

“Trooper?”

 

“Huh?” He looked at her. Oops. “Sorry! Sorry, ma’am. Captain. Captain Ma’am. Captain Phasma! Fuck…”

 

She just _laughed_. Yep, this was definitely a dream.

 

“Would you like to see what your squadron is up to?” She asked hopefully.

 

“No, that’s okay…”

 

“Let’s see something else, then. But you can’t ever tell anyone what I’m about to show you, okay? And believe me – _we’ll know_.”

 

ES-1843 gulped and nodded. He had a strong feeling he knew by now who _we_ included.

 

She led him through more of the ship, up to an area he’d never been in before. He realized this must be where the officers’ quarters were. They passed through a door which led to what looked like some kind of meeting room, currently converted into what could only be described as an officers’ lounge. The meeting tables were pushed to the sides and covered with plates of food and in their place in the middle were chairs and couches arranged in wide half-circles. Some officers sat and others stood, keeping mainly within their own rank. It was much less noisy here, but still some chatter, and still the music played from above.

 

Near them was the Captain herself, dressed sharply in a dress uniform, her blonde hair slicked to one side. She was sipping something dark from a small glass and talking with three other officers, all nearly a foot shorter than her.

 

“And Bravo Squadron has performed beyond expectations this year, they will have to be commended for that, don’t you think?”  


The officer she was looking at nodded in agreement.

 

“That’s you!” Dream-Phasma informed ES-1843. “Well, not _you_ you, but your squad.”

 

ES-1843 nodded, feeling a flicker of pride. It felt good to be recognized. Phasma seemed pleased at his reaction.

 

Then there was the loud clatter of things falling over.

 

The room grew dead silent as everyone turned to see the source of the sound.

 

Once they saw what – or, rather, _who_ it was – they quickly looked away and threw themselves very deliberately back into conversation. All but Phasma, who just rolled her eyes.

 

Meanwhile, dream-Phasma was glaring and aggressively whispering something to her invisible companions which ES-1843 only caught bits of.

 

“Why add that in…what do you mean it’s _realistic…_ don’t tell me you’re planning to…with everyone watching? How drunk do you have to…”

 

The culprit was a dark-haired man in black robes who had hoisted General Hux onto a table, knocking aside cups and plates, and they were brazenly making out.

 

ES-1843 couldn’t believe someone had the gall to manhandle the General that way. In fact, he could only think of one person onboard who would dare, but no, that was impossible…

 

Then Phasma was hurrying him out of the room before he could give it another thought, mumbling something about “I’ll have him erase that later”, whatever that meant.

 

When they were back in the corridor Phasma seemed much calmer. They revisited a few areas to see the festivities winding down, but spirits still high, off-duty troopers grouped into little clusters playing games or working on a second round of food.

 

Finally, they were back at ES-1843’s room.

 

“You see?” Phasma turned to him with a triumphant look. “It’s going to be great.”

 

ES-1843 shrugged and her face dropped instantly.

 

"That's it?" 

 

"The food looked good."

 

"This is harder than I thought," Phasma mumbled. Then she sighed and patted ES-1843 on the shoulder. He stiffened, unsure how to respond. Even in a dream she was still his superior. "I have to go now. I think you know there will be one more after me?"

 

His head shot up to look at her.

 

"Can't you stay and do the rest?"

 

She almost, _almost_ smiled at him.

 

"I'm flattered. But I've done all I can."

 

As she faded away, ES-1843 felt himself lower slowly into his body and drift back into unconsciousness.

 

*

 

"It didn't work."

 

"We saw," Hux said. Phasma shot him a glare, then turned to Kylo.

 

"What was that anyway?!"

 

"What was what?" He asked far too innocently.

 

" _You know what_. At the officers' party."

 

Kylo shrugged.

 

"I can't tell the future, I was only creating a vision of the most likely course of events."

 

"And that includes you two getting wasted and making out in front of everyone?"

 

Hux and Kylo exchanged a glance, shrugged noncommittally, and looked back at her. She looked ready to throttle them both and take control of the ship once and for all.

 

"I'd make everyone forget it later," Kylo reassured.

 

"Well you're going to have to make a certain scarred-for-life trooper forget it."

 

"I will, I will."

 

"So what's the next part of your brilliant plan?" Hux changed the subject before his cheeks could get any redder.

 

"Nothing in his past gave any indication of why he lacks spirit. Seeing the celebration didn't help either. The only thing left is to show him consequences. We show him what to expect if his morale doesn't improve with the rest of his colleagues."

 

"And how will you do that?" Phasma questioned. "You just said you can't predict the future."

 

"I can't. But he was warned he'd be transferred if he didn't change his ways. I'm sure I can project a good scenario."

 

"So you'll be doing this one?"

 

"Of course." Kylo smirked. "Who better to strike fear into the hearts of subordinates?" When neither Hux nor Phasma agreed the smirk dropped. "Okay and also I have to be the one to do it, since I'll be borrowing from his thoughts and mood as we go to make the scenario realistic. It would take too much energy to do from outside."

 

"I have no idea what you're talking about so I'm just going to trust you." Phasma shrugged.

 

"Can we still watch?" Hux added.

 

"Yes."

 

They linked hands one last time.

 

*

 

0300

 

When ES-1843 awoke, or whatever this was, it was with a resigned sigh. One more “ghost” and then this nightmare would be over and he could get through Space Christmas and pretend none of it ever happened.

 

His lights dimmed and the red emergency lights flickered on again. He sat up out of his body, a shudder running through him in spite of knowing none of this was real.

 

Something drew his attention to the floor. Or, to where the floor should be. Nearly a foot of thick fog covered it.

 

Then he was suddenly aware of a looming figure in his peripheral. Dream or not, this was frightening. With all the bravery he could muster, he turned.

 

The sight of a dark robed figure in a familiar mask greeted him, silent and eerie, more so than usual in the haze and dim light. ES-1843 could just make out the edge of a lightsaber clipped to the belt.

 

Kylo Ren.

 

"You. I was afraid it would be you."

 

At that, ES-1843 could have sworn he saw Ren turn slightly and give a small, triumphant nod to someone ES-1843 couldn't see.

 

Glancing at the floor, he cautiously lowered his feet. Finding solid ground beneath the fog, he stood and saluted as he had to the other commanders.

 

"Permission to speak, sir?"

 

Ren nodded slowly.

 

"Gen- I mean, the first _ghost_ showed me the past. And then the second showed me, well, today, so the present I guess. Are you here to show me the future?"

 

Another nod.

 

"Okay. Um. I'm ready?"

 

Ren held out a gloved hand.

 

With a hard gulp, ES-1843 took it.

 

They were transported instantly to a training room on board. ES-1843 recognized it instantly - it was where his squadron did their drills.

 

And there they were, his squad. Except...

 

"Where am I?" He wondered out loud, glancing nervously at his companion.

 

Ren shook his head.

 

"Not here?"

 

Ren nodded.

 

"Listen, I...I know you can speak. I've heard you give orders and argue with the General."

 

The mask slowly turned to stare him down and ES-1843 decided he could accept the enigmatic act if it meant not getting skewered on a lightsaber. Which begged the question, if you die in a Force-induced vision of the future, do you die in real life?

 

Ren's gaze lifted to somewhere behind and to the right of ES-1843 as if someone was speaking to him. It was hard to tell, but the tilt of his head had the air of a scowl.

 

ES-1843 peeked over his shoulder but no one was there. He shrugged and turned to watch his squad members perform their drills. He noticed a new member among them.

 

"My replacement?"

 

Ren nodded again.

 

"...he's not doing so well." ES-1843 couldn't help but notice.

 

Ren motioned to their left, where off to the side of the course their squad leader stood with a helmetless Captain Phasma, both looking disappointed. Ren touched his shoulder and suddenly they were behind the two, reading over the Captain's shoulder as she noted errors.

 

ES-1843 felt a little stab of guilt at that.

 

"I get it," he said, "if I get transferred my squad will be worse off. We always did work well together, even if..." he trailed off, suddenly awkward. His commander didn't need to know the sad details of his personal life.

 

Ren gave him a funny look, or what felt like one, but then returned his attention to the scene. They watched for a while, ES-1843 cringing occasionally at the more obvious mistakes.

 

"What will happen to them if they don't improve?" 

 

Ren looked like he was about to give in and just say something, then thought better of it. He put his hands together palm to palm then moved them apart, wiggling his gloved fingers dramatically.

 

ES-1843 raised an eyebrow.

 

"They'll...be...separated? Into different squadrons?"

 

Ren nodded emphatically.

 

"Oh."

 

He did feel a little bad about that.

 

Apparently not bad enough, though. There was an impatient huff from the mask, the first sound he'd made so far, and then Ren's hand was on his shoulder again.

 

The next thing he knew, they were in the corridors of a ship. Not the Finalizer, but still definitely First Order, from the design of it. A much smaller one but still kept up to the same standards as the flagship.

 

"Where are we?"

 

Ren motioned to a conveniently placed holoscreen with scrolling updates on the ship’s status and in the top left corner, its name.

 

"The Horizon?"

 

Why did that sound familiar?

 

Ren nodded and proceeded through the doors in front of them. ES-1843 quickly followed. 

 

The room they entered looked like a biological experiment gone wrong. There was a gooey green substance, or perhaps multiple substances together, all over the floor and walls, and something bright orange and vaguely fuzzy was growing on it.

 

A small group of four unfortunate sanitation troopers were cleaning up, but it was an arduous process that involved spraying a chemical on the muck and waiting for it to break down, then scooping it up and depositing it into a chute. They'd barely cleared out a space big enough for them and their equipment.

 

Two were working their way to one side of the room and two to the other. The two to their right were chatting away and ES-1843 could swear he recognized the voices even through the protective suits and masks they wore.

 

He moved closer, grateful that the mess couldn't get on him in this form, until he could make out the numbers on the upper left of their uniforms.

 

Sure enough, one read ES-1843. It was him. And the other...

 

He beamed.

 

Finally, something he wanted to see.

 

He couldn't make out all of what they were saying, but he eagerly listened to himself and the other trooper talk and joke. Across the room, Ren was watching him intently, head tilted to one side in confusion, but he barely noticed. He forgot Ren, forgot Space Christmas, forgot the Finalizer and his squadron in favor of this moment, this conversation he thought he'd never get to have again.

 

Then Ren was approaching, hand extended, and ES-1843 tried to back away but found himself frozen in place.

 

"No, no! Just another minute, please, sir!"

 

Ren touched his arm and they were in his room on the Finalizer.

 

ES-1843 slumped onto the bed and put his face in his hands. The sorrow that had numbed over the past few weeks felt fresh and new and it stung. He didn't care that Ren was watching. It didn't matter; none of this was real anyway.

 

When he lifted his head, Ren was gone.

 

He felt himself slip back into his body and sleep took over.

 

*

 

"I don't understand."

 

The words were rare for Hux but Kylo and Phasma were too perplexed themselves to comment on it.

 

They stood together in the dark place, out of sight from ES-1843 but watching him.

 

Kylo tossed back his hood and yanked off his helmet.

 

"I was borrowing from _his_ subconscious...he must know something about that ship that I missed..."

 

None of them spoke for several minutes, thinking hard on the problem at hand. 

 

Hux and Kylo jumped when Phasma let out a sudden gasp.

 

"What?"

 

"What is it?"

 

"On my home planet, we used to have a story."

 

"...okay?"

 

"It was about four blind brush-mice. One day they bump into a bantha. Or, any animal way bigger than them, depends who’s telling the story. None of them can figure out what it is, so they split up and each takes a section, feeling over as much as they can. Then they meet up to share their findings. From the part they each examined, they all incorrectly guess what it is. One thinks it’s a rug, one thinks it’s a horn, and so on. But once they combine what they know, they're able to figure it out."

 

Hux and Kylo were staring at her like she'd grown an extra set of arms.

 

"That's...a touching story about teamwork, Phasma," Hux tried, "but I fail to see..."

 

"What did you discover when you visited him?" She snapped.

 

"He excelled at tasks but didn't have any close bonds with his fellow troopers."

 

"Until?"

 

"...until that one who sat down at his table," Hux said with dawning realization.

 

She looked to Kylo.

 

"We don't need the vision anymore. Bring us back to the room."

 

And back in the room they were. Hux freed his hands first and pulled out his datapad.

 

"Ren, who was that trooper you had appear to him? To warn him?"

 

"JM-2425." Kylo answered, beginning to catch on.

 

Hux typed it into the trooper database.

 

"JM-2425," he read aloud, "known to some of his fellow troopers as 'Jake'. Formerly part of the Striker Squadron. Two months ago he was transferred to..."

 

"To the Horizon," Kylo interrupted, "in sanitation."

 

Hux set the datapad down.

 

"That was his only friend," Phasma said quietly, "And he was sent away. No wonder his spirits were so low."

 

"And why he seemed so happy about possibly being transferred there too," Kylo added.

 

They stared at one another until Hux cleared his throat.

 

"Do we…do we _care_? About this?"

 

"He's just one trooper. There's always reconditioning..." Phasma halfheartedly suggested.

 

"Or there's..." Kylo looked at his lightsaber then shrugged, not even bothering to finish the thought. His eyes were beginning to droop and his words slur, Hux noted with a frown.

 

"Kylo, are you-"

 

Kylo's head plopped gracelessly onto Hux's shoulder.

 

"Is he okay?" Phasma looked alarmed.

 

Hux checked his pulse and felt his forehead then nodded.

 

"He must have used too much energy with that little experiment." Hux was struggling to keep the fondness from his face and voice. "Help me get him to the bed?"

 

Phasma helped Hux hoist Ren up and together they moved him onto the bed. While Hux tucked the blankets over him under the guise of "smoothing out the wrinkles, what else", Phasma yawned and checked the time.

 

"0345. I should go. But first, what are we going to do about-?"

 

"I'll handle it. I just need you to do one thing."

 

"What's that?"

 

"Reallocate one member Striker Squadron."

 

Phasma grinned.

 

*

 

Footsteps, rustling and excited whispering. The sharp buzz of an alarm going off followed by a smack to silence it. People moving around, getting ready for their shifts. The door sliding open then shut one, two, three times.

 

ES-1843 heard all of this before finally opening his eyes. It barely took a moment before the memory of his dream-adventure returned. He let out a long breath.

 

That’s right. It was Space Christmas.

 

He hadn’t missed it, but he wished he had.

 

When he sat up, he saw the one remaining sock for him hanging under their small viewport. If the dream was correct, he already knew what was inside, but he made himself get up and walk over to confirm that he was right.

 

His first shift started soon, and only the promise of trying some food that wasn’t the bland rations motivated him to start getting ready.

 

As he was pulling a sock on, there was a knock at the door. He froze.

 

That was odd. If it was one of his roommates, they could just let themselves in. And no other trooper would come to see him.

 

He briefly wondered if he was in trouble, if he’d be transferred, if that vision _could_ come true. But he quickly shook away the thought. Even if he was in trouble, an officer wouldn’t come directly to his quarters. They’d wait for him to report for duty so they could make an example of him.

 

He finished putting on the second sock, stood and trudged over to press the button to open the door.

 

What he saw…was another vision, it had to be.

 

Standing awkwardly on the other side of the threshold was JM-2425.

 

“Jake?” he whispered. He reached out and poked at one shoulder. Solid, real. “Jake!” He flung his arms around him.

 

They stood in a tight embrace in the doorway, oblivious to the staring troopers that passed, for so long that ES-1843 lost track of time and was late for his shift.

 

It was the best Space Christmas ever.

 

*

 

That evening when his shift was over, ES-1843 and JM-2425, or Ears and Jake, as they affectionately knew each other, met up to get food. They stood close enough that their joined hands were hidden at their sides and talked and smiled while they waited in line.

 

Out of the corner of his eye, ES-1843 caught a glimpse of red hair, then a flash of chrome, then a drape of dark cloth. The General had entered the mess hall, flanked on either side by the Captain and the Knight, no doubt checking to make sure everything was running smoothly.

 

After his dreams last night, he couldn’t help watching them as they moved through the room.

 

Then they stopped and turned to look at him.

 

Phasma and Ren’s expressions were, of course, indecipherable with their helmets, though ES-1843 could swear Ren’s head lowered momentarily to look where his and Jake’s hands were.

 

The General might as well have been wearing a mask too, for how cold and unreadable he was.

 

Then, almost imperceptibly, the corner of his mouth twitched up and he nodded once.

 

It was over as quickly as it had appeared, but ES-1843 saw it. Then the trio moved on, leaving him to ponder over what just happened.

 

Had it been more than just a dream?

 

Why did JM-2425’s return coincide perfectly with Space Christmas?

 

Why had he been transferred back in the first place?

 

Then Jake’s hand squeezed his and ES-1843 decided the how and why didn’t matter. Who was he to question a Space Christmas miracle?

 

*

 

“So they were…?”

 

“More than just friends, yes.”

 

“How did we _miss_ that?”

 

“Probably because we weren’t looking for it.”

 

“ _Ren_ , you have the _Force_. How did _you_ miss it?”

 

“How is this suddenly all on me?!”

 

It was late, just past 1100, and the officers’ party had ended. Still a little tipsy and not yet willing to return to life as usual, Kylo, Hux and Phasma found themselves in Hux’s quarters this time.

 

Phasma lounged in Hux’s office chair with it tipped back as far as it would go without falling over. She was in her dress uniform but had gotten warm and removed the jacket; it was tossed over the back of the chair. In one hand she held a half-empty glass of scotch and in the other, half a cookie that she couldn’t decide if she had room for. Her eyes were closed as she listened to the co-commanders drunkenly bicker.

 

Kylo and Hux were sprawled on the bed, a pile of limbs and black cloth, one of Kylo’s arms looped lazily around Hux’s shoulders. With the other he was using the Force to guide the bottle to pour more scotch into their empty glasses on the bedside table, but his hand shook and only about half of the liquid actually made it to its destination.

 

“We all missed it,” Phasma interrupted, not bothering to move. “Besides, it doesn’t matter. We fixed it.”

 

“And,” Hux added, “Space Christmas was a huge success. Morale is through the roof. We have to do this every year.”

 

“Isn’t that kind of the point of a holiday?”

 

Hux swatted at Ren’s chest, or tried to, he ended up just sort of plopping his palm down and rubbing at it. Ren hummed.

 

“Keep doing that…”

 

“Get a room,” Phasma groaned.

 

“This is _my room_ ,” Hux reminded her as he rolled over Kylo to reach for his drink.

 

“So are we just, not going to talk about it?” Kylo asked.

 

“Talk about what?”

 

“What we did.”

 

“What did we do?”

 

“ _Phasma_.”

 

She sat up abruptly and opened her eyes, immediately regretting it when the room spun. She popped the half-cookie into her mouth and downed the last of her drink.

 

“Okay, fine,” she said, “we did something nice. For a trooper. A subordinate.”

 

Hux sneered.

 

“I wouldn’t say _nice_. Efficient. Productive. We needed 100% results or it wasn’t worth putting this all together.”

 

“Everything is results with you, isn’t it?” Kylo grumbled.

 

“One doesn’t become General before the age of 35,” Hux paused to take a drink, “by keeping low standards.”

 

“Regardless,” Phasma pulled them back to the conversation, “I think we can agree it was a one-time thing.”

 

“Of course.”

 

“Absolutely.”

 

“And it’ll never happen again.”

 

“Nope.”

 

“Never.”

 

“Good.”

 

Hux raised his glass.

 

“To ES-1843 and JM-2425. May they be productive, and as moderately content as regulations will allow.”

 

“Touching.”

 

“Thank you.”

 

“Happy Space Christmas!”

 

They toasted. Then they never spoke of it again.

 

ES-1843 had no further visions of the “ghosts”, but from that day on he became friendlier with his fellow troopers. It was always said of him that he knew how to keep morale up, if any Stormtrooper alive possessed the knowledge. May that be truly said of us, and all of us. Because as JM-2425 observed: if you don't, you might be sent to reconditioning.

 

 

The End

**Author's Note:**

> Come be joyful and triumphant with me on [tumblr](http://obsessions-and-dreams.tumblr.com/)!


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